


Wings

by I_bleed_Jensenite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_bleed_Jensenite/pseuds/I_bleed_Jensenite
Summary: Ellen and Bobby were born into very different classes and destined never to be together until a wing bring them together. From there, nothing would separate them.
Relationships: Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer
Kudos: 1
Collections: FicFacer$ 2020





	Wings

**Wings**

Opening the box carefully, not knowing what it contained, young Garth opened the box and unfolded the tissue paper that lay inside. There, nestled safely within was a single eagle feather, cleaned and beautifully looked after. Garth took it out and looked at it curiously.

‘Why is there a feather in a box Grandad?”

“That is my most treasured possession,” he said. “The reason that we met and fell in love,”

Grandma Ellen replied with a loving smile. “I’ll tell you the story later, when we break for coffee and cookies.”

They carried on clearing out Grandpa Bobby’s things, sorting what needed to go to Goodwill and what needed to be taken to the refuse.

It had been a long six months, since Grandpa Bibby had had the heart attack that eventually lead to them deciding to down-size. Jo, their granddaughter had already made a start on the garage. Ellen sat on an old oil barrel and watched her grandchildren working steadily. More questions came as Jo and Garth sorted through things, ‘ _What did she want doing with this? Was that thing important?_ Ellen answered them all as patiently as she could. As dusk set in, they all settled in the living room and Grandma Ellen brought in steaming coffee and chocolate chip cookies. Jo, now 18 had loaded her trunk with the last load for the refuse, while Garth, a handsome 25, was loading the final things for Goodwill into his trunk.

Ellen and Bobby watched them both and marvelled at the closeness between them. Jo, so much like Dean and Garth almost a mini-me of his dad, Sam. The friendship between the cousins was almost as strong as that of their dad’s – rarely seen without each other. Family had always been important to Bobby and Ellen, ever since that incident with Ellen’s dad and her decision to leave her family fortune behind. That had been the moment that confirmed for Bobby that he would do anything to keep Ellen safe and happy. The front door slammed as Sam and Dean came through.

“Hey, I smell coffee. We got here just in time,” Dean said grabbing mugs from the kitchen and coming to join them.

“Sit yourselves down boys, I was just going to tell Jo and Garth how your dad and I came to meet and have two such wonderful sons.”

Sam and Dean clinked their mugs together and settled down to listen, even though they had heard the story many, many times before. Grandma Ellen started her story. “Back in 1929, when Grandpa Bobby was a young 14-year-old boy, he was running across the field back home from school, when he passed my father, broken down at the side of the road. ‘Do you need a hand to change your tire, Sir?’ My father gratefully accepted the help, not liking to get his own hands dirty. Bobby finished the job and put the old tire back in the trunk, telling him to make sure that he had it looked at tomorrow. My father gave him a few coins as a thank you. Bobby took them as shouted a ‘thank you Sir,’ as he carried on running home, knowing that by now he was late. When he reached his door, he barged his way in, dropping his school bag and handing the coins to his mother. ‘Sorry I’m late, I stopped to help the man from the big house on the hill.’ His dad looked at him; Bobby expected to be scolded for being late, instead his dad hugged him and said, ‘well done son.’ His mum handed him a plate of bread and butter, winked at him, and added a spoonful of jam.

As he left the room, tears began to fall down his dad’s face. ‘So, my son can bring money into the house, you work to keep us fed and clean and yet I am here, useless and unwanted.’ His mother wiped her hands on her apron, took him by the hand and reassured him that he was still very much wanted and needed. She reminded him that the depression sweeping the country was not his fault and something that he was not responsible for. Once the depression was over, he would find more work. He was a good mechanic. Bobby was sitting on the stairs, listening to what was happening. He had never heard his dad cry and didn’t think that his dad would take kindly to knowing that he had heard him. Bobby knew that he only had a few more months of school, then he would be able to get a job and earn money to give to his mum and dad. He knew that dad didn’t like being out of work, but he had heard other men talking about being out of work too. He slipped back into bed and tried his best to sleep.

A few days later, Bobby was on his way home from school again, when he saw the same car, broken down at the side of the road, hood up, steam coming out. ‘Overheated Sir,’ Bobby said as he came near enough. ‘Do you have any water? I have a little in my bag.’ Digging into his bag, he pulled out a water bottle about half full. Using a rag to open the vent, Bobby twisted it and stood back letting out much of the steam. Once it had stopped spurting, he gingerly removed the rest of the cap and poured the water from his water bottle into the radiator. It sizzled but settled in the radiator. ‘If you give it a few minutes, it should be enough to get you home, Sir, so that a mechanic can find the cause,’ Bobby said. This time, the man handed him a banknote. Bobby folded in carefully and put it safely into his bag. Dad would be happy tonight. Bobby ran the rest of the way home. He had a banknote. He had never held a banknote before and desperately wanted to look at it but knew what it would be rude to do so now. He had to get back home first. He ran into the room, and excitedly shouted to dad. Dad came to see what all the noise was. Instead of hugging him, dad looked suspiciously at him and said sternly, ‘Where did you get this from boy? You didn’t steal it did you?’ Bobby stared at him and dropped his head. ‘No dad, the man at the big house…’

He was interrupted by a knocking on the still open kitchen door. The tall man from the big house was standing in the doorway. ‘I’m sorry to intrude on your home,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t know your son’s name or where to find him, so I followed where he ran. He has been extremely helpful to me. I would like you to consider sending him to me when he finishes school as a mechanics apprentice. You have clearly taught him well. He would have to work hard but we could use someone like him.’ ‘My son, up at the big house. Let me think about it,’ dad said. ‘I’ll call back this time tomorrow,’ the tall man said. He shook hands with all of them and left. Then dad looked at me, grabbed mum and swung her round the kitchen. ‘My son is going to the big house. He’s going to be a better mechanic than his old man.’ Tears ran down his face, this time ones of happiness. Bobby’s mum spent the whole of the next day cleaning and tidying the house, ready for his return. She had laid a clean tablecloth on the table and covered the patches with coasters. She got out the best crockery and baked a fresh cake. The man returned just after Bobby was home from school. ‘Mr. Harvell,’ he said extending his hand. Dad shook it. ‘Hello, Sir. I’m John and this is Mary.’ They chatted for a while, Mr. Harvell complimenting mum on her baking, before Mr. Harvell turned to Bobby and asked, ‘well son, how do you feel about moving to the staff quarters when you finish school? The pay’s not much but you’ll have a small room and your meals, plus weekends off, unless we need you for a job.’ ‘Yes Sir, please Sir,’ Bobby almost shouted in reply. Mr. Harvell and dad talked some more, and Mr. Harvell invited dad up to the house so see where Bobby would be and sign the paperwork.

‘I can send a car for you,’ Mr. Harvell had said. ‘No need, the walk will do us good,’ dad replied. With that he left. Bobby waited and watched his dad’s face for a reaction. Sometimes it was hard to know what his dad was thinking. Dad then shouted to mum, ‘what can we celebrate with?’ ‘Leave it to me,’ mum replied, a big smile spreading across her face. She dug into the pantry and found a tin of ham and some pickle. She added this to the table and when out to the storage room, coming back with elderflower wine and picked onions. As she worked, the spread on the table grew, fresh bread, churned butter, cheese all joined the things on the table, along with the rest of the cake with rhubarb and custard warming in the oven.”

‘I can still taste that ham,’ Grandpa Bobby said from his comfy chair before stopping to allow Grandma Ellen to carry on the story.

Grandma Ellen continued, “after a good feed and a good night’s sleep, Mary started getting her family ready. She laid out John’s good clothes and brushed then down. She took out her best dress; the one with only one patch. She took out Bobby’s ‘best’ clothes, the ones that he wore to church on special occasions. She fetched the tin bath and set it out in the living room in front of the fire and heated water so that John could get a bath. She even made him scrub his nails.”

Bobby, interrupted again, “I’d never seen mum look so pretty. She looked beautiful and had taken time to brush her hair so that it fell down her back. I’d only really seen it tied up.”

Grandma Ellen continued, “As they walked up the hill, to the house, I saw them coming. John and Mary hand in hand, Bobby trailing behind. It was a hot day and the walk was long. I remember running down to the kitchen and asking them to make sure that they had chilled lemonade and cake ready. When they arrived, Dad took John into the office and ushered Bobby and Mary into the kitchen. I greeted your dad cheerily, he blushed and looked at the floor, before stammering a hello in reply.

“I was nervous, and you were gorgeous. Still are.” Grandpa Bobby huffed.

After a while, John called into the kitchen and collected Bobby and Mary. ‘It’s all sorted son. You start here in three weeks. ‘A wide smile spread across Bobby’s face. ‘Thank you all,’ he managed to stammer as he stood up to leave. As they walked back, Bobby saw dad’s car and ran his land longingly across the wing of the car, a black and cream Plymouth. I remember watching him; knowing that somehow things were going to change.”

Bobby sat up in his chair. ‘Things definitely changed alright. I loved my job and spent my evenings studying to make sure that I always knew the answers to the questions that the mechanics would ask me. They tried to catch me out by asking harder and harder questions. No matter how much I studied, they always found something that I didn’t know and that became the spur for more study at the end of that day. It was many years later before they told me that I knew more than them, and that they were secretly reading up on things to have things to challenge me with. I took a break at weekends to go back to see mum and dad and hand over my wages. I didn’t need it but knew that mum would be grateful for it. I earned enough in tips from customers to buy anything that I needed, not that I ever spent much. Mum would send me back to the house with a block of cheese, some bread, and a cake, to share with the other boys. I hated leaving them both, mum looking exhausted, dad sinking more and more into depression and become more disillusioned about ever working again but I loved my job and knew that I was earning enough to keep them fed and clothed.'

He sank back into his chair and stared into space as if remembering something that he wasn’t ready to share.

Grandma Ellen continued the story. “It was about 2 years after Bobby had come to live in the house, that the all-important moment happened. I had taken to sitting on the window chair in my bedroom window, watching the mechanics at work. Bobby had a cute ass and those overalls did nothing to hide his muscles. Occasionally, he would look up and see me watching. I’d quickly look away. Late one night my dad returned home from a business trip, a bird stuck to his grill. He threw his keys over to Bobby, telling him to ‘get rid of the bird and clean the car.’ Bobby ran outside to find an eagle mashed into the front grill. He could feel that it was still breathing and gently untangled the majestic bird. It must have sensed that he was trying to help, as it didn’t try to bite or claw at him but stayed still. Eventually, he had it freed and smoothed down its wings, checking carefully for damage. The left wing had taken almost all of the impact and was hanging limply. As best as he could, Bobby maneuvered the wing back into place and held it there with sticks and tape. It wasn’t pretty but it was effective. He cared for the bird so well, bringing it mashed worms and water whenever he could. Eventually, the bird was stronger, and he started smuggling bits of meat from the kitchen for it to eat. I’d watched him from that night and loved how he cared so much so something that dad had disregarded as unimportant. I didn’t know that he had seen me watching him or that he had felt anything for me. He hid it well. Finally, the day came for the eagle to be released back into the wild. He carefully removed the last of the sticks and smoothed out the eagle’s wing. He checked the bird all over and took him outside, climbed onto the roof of the barn and let him go free. The eagle hesitated and looked around but then it flew, short flights at first but gradually longer and higher, regaining his strength. Bobby slid back down the roof and walked away, shoulders slouched; a silent tear slid down his face, making a clean track in the dirt in his face. I knew that I needed to acknowledge his pain at letting it go and slid into the barn. I wiped the tear from his face. He looked at me startled. ‘It’s ok, I know how much you’re hurting. He’s a fine bird.’

Bobby looked at me and asked if it was me that had fed him over the weekends when he was away. I confessed to having watched him sneaking into the barn and found the bird. Something came over me, and I kissed him, long and deep. Bobby kissed me back but then pushed me away. ‘This cannot happen,’ he said, ‘you are the lady of the house and I’m only an apprentice. It cannot be.’ As I turned to go, saddened but understanding fully the implication of what he had said, I noticed a feather stuck in his overalls. I carefully removed it and walked away, my heart battered and my mind racing with thoughts. I still sat in my window seat watching him, but Bobby no longer looked up at me. He was trying to keep a respectful distance. If I walked into the kitchen, he would busy himself and leave or sit on the far side of another person, so we were never alone together. I thought that all my chances were over until one day as I was watching, I saw an eagle land on the roof of the barn. I was sure that this was Bobby’s eagle. I ran down to tell him. I shouted it out to all the young lads down there, most of them ignoring me, but Bobby turned to watch and then ran to the kitchen, returning to hold out a piece of steak for the pie the cook was making. He held it out and whistled. The eagle swooped down, landed on his arm, took the meat, and then flew off again. He grabbed me and swung me round, finally happy, before putting my back down and kissing me.

The other mechanics stopped what they were doing and watched in horror.

At that moment, life ran in slow motion. I knew word would get back to dad when he returned from his business trip and that he was sure to fire Bobby. What I wasn’t expecting was the vengeance he would show towards me. For the next few days, Bobby and I spent all our time together. There was no point in hiding now. I sat and watched Bobby mending cars during the day, I could have watched him forever. We spent our evenings curled up in the barn, just talking, trying to avoid mentioning dad. Then we heard a familiar grumble of an engine followed by leather on gravel. Bobby stiffened and I clung to him more. He pushed me behind him and stood to face dad. Then the shouting began, ‘How dare you disrespect me like this? I took you in and gave you and your family an income and you think you can help yourself to my daughter. Get out and don’t come back. If I get my way, no-one will ever employ you as a mechanic around here.’ Then he looked at me. ‘And you…you had it all…and you go sneaking around behind my back with this…this…. boy. I’ve introduced you to some of the most eligible young men in the district and you settle for this. Well, that was your choice. Now live with it. You can leave with him but don’t expect any money from me. I no longer care what becomes of you.’ He turned on his heels and left. Over his shoulder he shouted, ‘I expect you both gone before I return tomorrow evening.’

The barn door slammed. I jumped at the noise. Bobby looked white and took my hands in his. ‘I’m sorry, I tried so hard for this not to happen. I’ll leave before any further damage is done. Go back to your dad. Apologize and throw yourself on his mercy.’ ‘No, I’m staying, I…. I love you and cherish the time we have had together. Please don’t make me stay.’ Bobby looked into my eyes and said gently, ‘it will be an extremely hard life, with none of the luxuries that you know now. I don’t want you to end up resenting me.’ ‘I couldn’t live with knowing that I hadn’t given it a chance’ I replied, my eyes never leaving his. We spent the night in the barn. It was cold but we didn’t feel it, snuggled into each other, whispering plans to one another for what would happen now.

As morning dawned, we started to put our plan into action. Bobby was going to go home and tell them what had happened, I was going to return to the house and pack my things before joining him at his house. From there, we would talk with his parents and decide what we could do. I watched as Bobby started the long walk back to his home, now nearly 18 but his apprenticeship not quite complete, his head in his hands, feeling as though he had let everyone down and had nothing to offer me. In the sky I could see an eagle circling. I wondered if he had seen it too. If only he had realized then, how special he was. I ran up the stairs and packed my clothes. Leaving behind my fancy dresses, except for one, and packing practical warm clothes, I came to realize that I was leaving luxury behind. I packed my jewellery into a bag and some things that mum had given to me when she had known that she was dying. I had a little money; not much, but enough to do something with, I hoped.

As I was setting off on the walk, with my suitcase in my hand, the chief mechanic, Barry, stopped to offer me a lift. I got in reluctantly, wanting space to think but not liking the idea of the walk. When I arrived at the house, I could hear discussions already going on. John didn’t seem overly pleased to have an extra mouth to feed, or to have lost the money that Bobby usually brought home. Mary smiled and waved towards an empty chair at the table. She brought out cake and told me that Bobby had never brought a friend back before. I told them that I didn’t have much to offer, except for the money that I had brought with me, but that I would willingly work around the house and the garden. I gave them half of the money that I had. It was quite a lot for those times but wouldn’t last forever and I didn’t know what the future held. John was happier that I had put money into the family pot but was still concerned about Bobby’s future now that he had no trade.

That summer passed slowly but mostly pleasurably, Mary and I planted a vegetable garden to grow as much veg as we could, especially potatoes and carrots to bulk out meals when we couldn't afford much meat. Bobby and I went for long walks and talked about what we would do when the depression was over. Bobby and John picked up odd jobs here and there, which paid for the things we couldn’t usually afford. I learnt to knit, as Mary spent her evening teaching me, and I could already sew, so mended clothes and darned socks in the evenings. We used to sit around the radio in the living room, listening to book recitals. A new story from John Steinbeck had just started one Saturday evening, when there was a knock on the door. Very few people knocked on the door, so we all looked at each other as Bobby stood to open it.

‘Mary, I need to speak to you,’ came a familiar voice; that of my Uncle Michael. John ushered him in and cleared the room of people to allow us as much privacy as the house permitted. He had come to inform me that there had been a terrible car accident and that my father had died. As I no longer kept in touch with him, I hadn’t been informed but one of the mechanics had told Uncle Michael where he had taken me to that day. Uncle Michael said that dad had been wrong to throw me out and that he was grateful to Bobby’s parents for taking care of me. He asked me to come back to the house with him to help to organize my father’s affairs. I told him that I would not go back to living there but would be up in the morning to help him.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Not knowing whether to be sad or relieved at my father’s passing. Bobby held me all night, his presence a warm and comforting feeling in an uncertain world. The next day, we walked up to the house, my stomach clenched as we approached it. As we rounded the final corner, Bobby squeezed my hand tightly and whispered, ‘It will be ok, I’m here for you.’ As we reached the door, my uncle was there to meet us. The mechanics came and hugged dad and asked how he had been and what he was doing. When he said that he had picked up a few jobs here and there but wasn’t working regularly, they moaned about how it was a waste of a good mechanic. I let go of his hand and nodded to Bobby. He borrowed a pair of overalls and went to help them while I helped Uncle Michael. What seemed like hours passed as we worked through all the papers and document that my father had filed away in his office. We paid all his outstanding bills and totalled what was left. I hadn’t realized that my father had been worth so much.

Uncle Michael explained that my father had indeed changed his will when he threw me out and now Uncle Michael inherited everything, but he also told me that he wanted me to be secure and happy. He asked what he could do to help me to achieve this. I told him that I wanted nothing of my father’s money but that I wanted Bobby to be allowed to finish his course. Uncle Michael told me not to be hasty and that it was rightfully mine. He said that if I wouldn’t accept money, that he would find another way to provide me with some security. He arranged for Bobby to complete his apprenticeship and become a fully qualified mechanic and offered to write a reference for him, should he need one.

After the funeral, we heard little of Uncle Michael for a few weeks and settled back into life at Bobby’s parents’ house. Then Uncle Michael came to the house and asked for me to accompany him into town. He took us to meet an estate agent who showed us a plot of land with a workshop attached and a trailer parked in the field, new painted with Singer’s Autos on a sign above. I questioned my uncle about why the trailer had Bobby’s name on it. He looked at me and said, ‘well, I’ve heard from the mechanics that he is the best that they have seen. He needs his own business to prove that, and here it is. It won’t be easy, there is still a lot to do but if he’s a good as everyone says, it should provide you with a stable income and maybe even provide employment for his dad.’ I look and him and started to argue but was told to ‘save my breath, it was already a done deal.’ He handed Bobby the paperwork that did indeed show Singer’s Autos as belonging to Bobby.

Uncle Michael told Bobby that he could of course sell the business if he didn’t want it but that the money would still be his. Bobby just looked at me and then hugged me with tears welling up in my eyes, but I couldn’t speak.‘

That was a first, you speechless,’ Bobby chipped in from his seat.

We were walking back to the car, when Uncle Michael stopped and said, ‘Oh I forgot, we have one more stop to make. This way,’ and pulled Bobby and I a few hundred yards, down the main road. We stopped just a few shops down at a run-down café. The name above it said, ‘Roadhouse.’ We opened the door and were hit by a face full of dust, unsettled by the sudden movement. ‘It hasn’t been used for a while,’ Uncle Michael explained. ‘The previous owner had to sell up as the depression left them unable to keep it open, but the kitchen is well equipped, and it really just needs a really deep clean.’ He handed me the paperwork. ‘If Bobby is going to be putting in long hours at the garage, you need something to keep you occupied,’ he argue and passed me the paperwork. Bobby and I walked back to the car, dazed and unsure of what to think. We thanked Uncle Michael again before walking into Bobby’s parent’s house and sitting at the table, the paperwork in the folders on the table. Mary made us all coffee and cake and asked about our day out. We didn’t know how to being to explain what we thought, as we hadn’t worked it out ourselves then. Bobby pushed the paperwork towards John and asked him to have a look. John picked them up and scanned the details, his eyes flicking over the names and the owners. Then he let out a sound that I have never heard before, a cross between a laugh and a cheer. ‘Well son, seems that I can stop worrying about how you will feed yourself.’ It was another late night of discussions and chatter. Plans were being made, changed, and argued about.

Eventually, we decided to go to bed and to go back and visit them both in the morning with John and Mary. Not much sleeping was done, but after breakfast we took the neighbor’s horse and hooked up his carriage. We ventured to Singer’s Autos first with John taking an active interest in the workshop and started making lists of what they would need to buy to make it properly useable. Mary and I concerned ourselves with the trailer. It needed a clean but was in good condition, small waiting area, coffee facilities, a toilet and storeroom. We thought that it could work.

On the sign board outside, we added a wing above his name on the name board – a good luck symbol for us that only those who knew would recognize. Later we headed to the café and showed they the dusty conditions. Mary was more excited at this prospect and opened all the cupboards, making lists of what was there and what might be needed. John checked the equipment out with Bobby and decided that everything seemed fine. At the back of the kitchen was a door that covered the staircase to upstairs. We hadn’t even been upstairs yesterday. Upstairs were two small bedrooms, a storeroom and a shower and toilet, with a larger room at the front that looked over the road. Bobby and I suddenly realized that we had a ready-made home; somewhere to live that was ours and where we didn’t owe any money on it.

Our plans moved at a pace. We went back to the house and I opened the box that contained the last of the money that I had brought when leaving my father’s house. We counted it and worked out quickly that it was just enough, if we were very careful, to get the garage up and running. It wouldn’t leave enough to make the café operational yet, but if we cleaned up the upstairs, we could live onsite and I could do some each day as well as running the garage. Our days became a routine of John and Bobby working on the garage and Mary and I cleaning and painting the apartment upstairs.

After a few months, the garage was ready to open. Bobby called a meeting in the trailer. He told us all that he was so grateful for everything that he had and never thought that he would be cutting the ribbon on his own garage. He had a question to ask first though; still in his overalls, he got down on one knee and pulled a box out of his pocket. He opened it, showed me a small solitaire diamond ring, and asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes. Bobby made his speech at the opening of the garage to the small crowd that had gathered and introduced me as his fiancée. It sounded strange but so right.

Trade was slow but steady. Bobby gained a reputation for being an honest worker and fair to his customers, so gradually the business improved. John helped out there a lot and gradually became Bobby’s first full-time employee. Mary and I worked on getting the café ready, ploughing all the profits from the garage into the café. No money was wasted. Everything was repaired or painted and only replaced if absolutely necessary.

The wedding was planned during the quiet times. I was going to borrow Mary’s dress and we planned to have the wedding in the field where the workshop was. A large marquee and rows of seats would be fine. The reception could be held at the café as a trial run and it would open shortly afterwards and then Bobby and I could move in as husband and wife. Bobby had slept there a few times when work hours were long but soon it would become our home. The wedding was small but beautiful. The flowers all came from our garden, Mary arranged them and made the buttonholes. Each one off-set with an eagle feather as a reminder of how we met. Uncle Michael gave me away and the other mechanics became the ushers. I had a few friends who were bridesmaids. Again, Mary did the bulk of the work, making the dresses from scratch.

A year later, Dean came along. When I told Bobby, he swung me round the apartment and cried, hugging me with delight. The depression was over by then, but there was a feeling that war was coming, so food wasn’t in great supply. Trying to keep up with 2 businesses and a small baby was hard but every night we fell thankfully into bed knowing that it could have been much worse than it was. We employed as many locals as we could and bought our goods in the village to keep things going for as long as we could. It was only when Sam came along 4 years later that we knew that we needed a real house with a garden. Profits had been stable for a few years and we thought that we could afford it. We bought our little house that summer and kitted it out with a batman themed room for little Dean who was fascinated with the comic-book character, wearing his home-made cloak everywhere and fanning out is wings, pretending to fly and falling face first onto the bed. We decorated a plain room for Sam, with space for him to play, as he grew older, although we were sure that Dean would want him to be Robin. The house had a little garden and a white picket fence. I remember telling Bobby, that he would never be allowed in, wearing his dirty clothes.

For our tenth anniversary we got matching tattoos. An eagle’s wing, with 2 floating feathers, one with Dean’s date of birth and one with Sam’s, a replica of the eagle wing that brought us together.”

**Author's Note:**

> FicFacer$ are a group of authors and artists who love, love Supernatural. As a thank you to people who agreed to donate to Random Acts, we created custom-made stories/images for the highest bidder and some of them are posted here to the Archive.
> 
> These stories are not affiliated, associated, endorsed by, or in any way officially connected with Random Acts, or any of its subsidiaries or its affiliates. All donations have been paid directly to Random Acts, who do not own Supernatural or any of the characters in the stories.


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